


Thief in the Night

by Susana Rosa (SusanaR), SusanaR



Series: Desperate Hours Alternative Universe (DH AU) D version [31]
Category: Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Backstory, Gen, Long Lost/Secret Relatives, Mother's Day, Mother-Son Relationship, Motherhood, Secret Relationship, Secrets
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-13
Updated: 2012-05-13
Packaged: 2017-11-05 07:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/403984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/Susana%20Rosa, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SusanaR/pseuds/SusanaR
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Faramir became the son of two mothers, and it's not entirely uncomplicated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thief in the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Dedication: A bit of an odd story for the day, but still about mother-love. Happy Mother's day to all the mothers, and to everyone who has loved a child like a mother. 
> 
> Quotes: 
> 
> "Not flesh of my flesh, Nor bone of my bone,   
> But still miraculously my own.   
> Never forget for a single minute,   
> You didn't grow under my heart - but in it." - Fleur Conkling Heylinger

It was the seventh of November. The last few brightly-colored fall leaves clung to the branches of the trees in Minas Tirith, and to the deciduous trees beneath the pines on Mount Mindolluin. A dark cloaked figure silently walked through the Fen Hollen, the Closed Door on the sixth level of the city, and onto the Rath Dinen, the Silent Street upon which stood the Tombs of the Kings and Stewards of Gondor. By some coincidence of its construction, leading from the city onto Mount Mindolluin, or by some more arcane means, the chill fall wind, whispering of the coming winter, did not penetrate the Rath Dinen. The cloaked figure did not disturb the silence, walking the Rath Dinen, and into the simple grove which had been planted in the House of the Stewards. The solemn stone building and garden were quiet, save for the burble of fountains set amidst small marble statues. These were the private memorials, meant to honor Boromir's and Faramir's forebearers, the Lords of the House of Hurin, and their wives and children. 

The dark cloaked figure pulled back her hood and paused in front of a specific fountain. The stone had been carved into the shape of a slender woman standing by the seashore, gazing into the distance. In the swirl of a blue and rose veined marble wave was carved the name Finduilas, wife of Denethor, Mother of Boromir and Faramir, Swan Princess of Dol Amroth. 

"Here I am again, little sister." Said the dark-cloaked Queen of Gondor and Arnor in her musical, bell-like voice, which echoed strangely in this quiet place. "I have brought you shells which your grandchildren and my children collected by the shores of your birthplace, on this the anniversary of our Faramir's birth." Arwen tossed the shells gently into the basin of the fountain, where they joined dozens of others. One shell per child, each year since Elboron was born, the year that Arwen had learned that Faramir was Aragorn's son, and therefore, by Arwen's reckoning, hers as well. 

Then Arwen sat down on a bench near the fountain, her gray eyes studying the form of Finduilas by the sea. "I have something to say to you." The Queen began, "I was not ready before. Oh, in public, and to some extent in my heart, I made myself forgive you at once, for Faramir's sake. I could not love the son, and hate the mother. He would have sensed it, and it would have hurt him. I am a mother, too. His mother, too. By my choice, because he was my beloved's son, and already dear to me. And later, by his own choice as well, once he realized that it was not a dishonor to you, to have two mothers." 

"But you stole something from me, Finduilas of Dol Amroth, bride of the House of Hurin. Reluctantly, in desperation, but purposely." Arwen accused the fountain bitterly. Taking a deep breath, because even with no witnesses save the dead and departed, Arwen did not wish to be bitter, Arwen lost herself in her thoughts, seeking the truth behind her anger. So that she could speak it 'ere she left today, and deprive it of its power. 

During her youth, Arwen had divided the year into seasons by the birthdays of her loved ones. Mid-winter was for Belemir, the brother who was less than a decade her elder, and her best friend. The first of March was the begetting day of the twins, and just as with the twins, one never could be sure what the weather would be like. The day could bring a roaring tempest, or early spring sunshine, sweet with promise of the coming season. 

Just a few weeks later were the begetting days of both of Arwen's parents, although they only celebrated Celebrian's. For Arwen knew, even from a very young age, that for her Adar Elrond, his begetting day was not something that brought happy memories. Rather, it was usually a memorial to his twin, and Celebrian had taken to inviting the heirs of Isildur from Annuminas. Which was a great deal of fun, for the young Arwen and Belemir, who had grown up looking forward to the yearly get together with their distant human cousins, just as soon as it was warm enough for them to travel. 

Arwen herself was begotten on the first of May, and Imladris often went all-out to celebrate the special day of Lord Elrond's youngest child. Then mid-summer was for Andreth, Arwen's perfect elder sister. Early fall was Erestor, and they celebrated Glorfindel's begetting day at the same time (since he'd never told anyone when it was, and Celebrian insisted that it would be celebrated). Just before Yule was for Melpomaen, which to young Arwen always betokened the beginning of the holiday season. 

Now, there was Aragorn's birthday, just twenty days after the twins'. Celebrated now with a feast and a spring fair, the pinnacle of which were competitions of skill of arms. The birthdays of Arwen's older daughter Melyanna and Faramir and Eowyn's middle daughter Mithiriel were only a few days apart, spanning the end of March and the beginning of April. Eldarion's birthday was in early summer, not long after the Frodo Baggins Day celebration. Arwen and Aragorn's youngest daughter, bright-spirited and stubborn Gilwen, had been born in mid-summer. Eowyn and her youngest daughter Haleth had both been born in the last days of summer, and the celebrations of their birthdays often overlapped with the end of Summer council. Theodwyn had been born in mid-October, just before the Harvest Festival. Then came Faramir's birthday, on this chill day in the fall. Elboron had been born just before Yule. All of these milestones, which Arwen and Aragorn were privileged to celebrate with their children and grandchildren, year to year. Natal days when they could hold their children, hold the little ones close and kiss their soft hair. Dance with Faramir and Eowyn, and embrace them tightly. Days when Arwen and Aragorn reveled in the joy and pride they took in their children, and shared it with them. All of these birthdays, that Finduilas would never see. 

But that did not change the fact that Finduilas had stolen, from Arwen. "You did." Arwen told the marble fountain, "Although I dreamt that I was there beside Aragorn that night, and although he dreamed of me, it was your flesh that cleaved to his, and took from him a son." 

Arwen remembered that night with absolute clarity. She had woken in her bed at Imladris from the most real erotic dream she had ever experienced in long decades of missing Aragorn, her secret betrothed. Arwen had dreamt of lying with Aragorn in a stone chamber she did not recognize, the air smelling of vanilla and cinnamon, mixed with the smoke from many fires and pine-scented wind. Arwen's first year in Minas Tirith, she had recognized that particular smell of smoke and pine as being unique to the Citadel of Minas Tirith in the winter-time. Some few years after that, Arwen had smelled the same vanilla-and-cinnamon scent, when Faramir and Eowyn had opened a chest of Finduilas' gowns and jewels, sent from Dol Amroth by Faramir's uncle, Prince Imrahil. 

Yet a few years later, after they knew that Faramir was Aragorn's own child, it had occurred to Arwen that somehow, there might have been three beings present at Aragorn's guest chamber in the Citadel, that long-ago night when he had been conceived in deception, desperation, sorrow, grief, and hope, in the dead of one of the coldest winters in Minas Tirith's long memory. Arwen had wondered what Finduilas had done to make that so, or if it simply been that Arwen herself had sensed her love Aragorn's distress and need, and their thinking of one another had brought her to the chamber in which Finduilas and Aragorn had coupled. Arwen had wished many times that her grandmother Galadriel had stayed, that Arwen might have asked her. But by the time that Arwen knew the truth of Faramir's parentage, Galadriel had sailed, along with most of her students. Arwen had eventually asked Orophin, male though he was, and as embarrassing as it had been for Arwen to explain the whole situation. For all the good it did her. Orophin had been very good about it, controlling his surprise and his dislike about thinking of Arwen, whom he loved like a niece, in any way engaged in sex, or her husband (who had been secretly betrothed to her, even then) being tricked into betraying her. But Orophin hadn't known the answer. Still, he watched Faramir after that, as did Arwen. And both wondered, from time to time, if there might not be something of Arwen in Faramir. Something of her patience, her sense of humor, her ability to organize, to bring out the best in people. Something of her sense of hope and faith in the future. But Finduilas had possessed many of those traits too, as did Aragorn. But the patience, at least... Arwen thought that might be hers, and her characteristic alone, that was most certainly a part of Faramir. 

"My spirit was there that night, which may have been your doing, Finduilas. But it doesn't change that you took a son from my love, like a thief in the night. In very fact, you took a night from Aragorn. I feel as if you stole a first son, from both of us. And by doing that, you also stole from me Aragorn's first child's birthdays, his childhood, his youth. Stole from me the better part of half a century, during which we did not know that this day in November was the day that our oldest child was born." 

"But you did it all, to give us a better chance at a future." 

"Still, it hurts." 

"But time turned, and I - Aragorn and I - have a son that we would not have had. A daughter, in his wife, that we would not have had. Four beautiful grandchildren, that we would not have had." 

"In the end, you gave us so much more than you took away. Mandos give you peace, little sister. My son's mother. Eru and all the Valar bless you. I will care for your child for you, and his children, and the nephews and niece of his heart." Arwen placed one hand into the water of the fountain, "In the end, I think that is what any Mother would want." 

With that, Arwen returned to the Citadel, her heart lighter and her spirit eased. She walked into the long gallery, where Faramir's uncle Imrahil was telling a story to a wide-eyed Haleth and Gilwen, while Mithiriel and Melyanna played dolls with a trapped Elrohir. Imrahil's grandson Alphros was closeted in a corner, whispering with Eldarion, Theodwyn, and a nervous-looking Elboron. Faramir himself sat at a table in a corner of the room, frowning over scrolls which Arwen recognized as a summary of reports on the season's harvests. No one was bothering Faramir, as all knew this as his way of spending time with and near his family, while still making inroads on the voluminous amount of reading and writing required of Gondor's Steward. Well, no one bothered Faramir except for Arwen's husband, Faramir's father Aragorn the King. He and Legolas were tossing walnut shells at Faramir, and grinning like fools. Faramir just brushed the shells aside when they hit his scrolls, not even looking up. It was Gimli who gave Legolas and Aragorn the occasional chiding glance, in between making modifications to his own scrolls, designs and schematics showing levers and pistons and Arwen couldn't even tell what else. As she passed by her husband and Legolas, Arwen swatted at Aragorn's hip and nudged Legolas so that he nearly fell off of his chair. 

"Stop bothering Faramir." She chided them. Aragorn just chuckled and grinned at her, unrepentant, before pulling her into a kiss. They did stop the throwing-walnut shells-at-Faramir game, though, so Arwen considered her duty as a responsible matriarch to be satisfied. Eowyn and Elladan entered the room, back from their duties at the House of Healing. Eowyn went over to embrace Faramir and remind him that it was time for lunch. As the group of adults and gaggle of children wandered towards the dining room opposite the long gallery, Arwen stopped to twine her arm around Faramir, and pull him into an embrace. 

Faramir hugged her back, and Arwen leaned her dark head against his shoulder, the red-gold hair of his neatly trimmed mustasche just brushing her forehead. 

"I love you too, Naneth." Faramir told her, affectionate but baffled, "What is this for?" 

"Nothing," Arwen answered, fighting happiness and sadness so strong that it almost brought her to tears, "Just...happy birthday, ion-nin." 

Aragorn came back to collect the two of them, throwing his strong arms around them and lifting them both a bit off of their feet. Then he pulled Arwen into an embrace with one arm, and ruffled Faramir's hair with the other, before catching his oldest son in a head lock, prompting a laugh of exasperation from the wriggling Faramir. As they walked into the dining room, Aragorn holding onto them both, Arwen reflected that she was so very, very fortunate.


End file.
